We went to the window, where we saw the bird laying there, moving it's beak, and I said, "Sometimes the birds just need some time to get back up, then they'll fly away. They don't always die.". She and I watched while the beak moving became less and less...until it was nothing.
I began to formulate lots of "well honey, everything dies" comments and imagined the bird funeral we'd hold later and waited for the horror and the tears and the sadness...turns out, I shouldn't have worried.
Baby Girl took one last look, declared, "Yup. He's dead." and walked away.
Well then. Okay.